#polyam mlm
to have a boy cup my face and stare deeply into my eyes before leaning in and pressing his nose against mine.
it’s the little things. when we hold hands and his thumb does the rubbing thing or he holds mine a little tighter. when he rests his head on my shoulder while reading batman. when we had our first hug and i couldn’t breathe because we were so close. the little things are so lovely.
showed him a vampire post and now we write letters to each other.
his small obsession with batman. his huge obsession with king dice. the way he rambles on about how his watch has the exact seconds and milliseconds. how he continuously tries to get me to watch jojo’s. this boy<333.
i want to give him little poetic notes that subtly tell him my feelings.
how i long to hold his hand in mine. how i long to cup his face and stare into his eyes.
you ever see a pretty boy and just melt? you feel all gooey and can’t help but smile because he’s so pretty.
constantly daydreaming about painting a boy’s (or boys’) nails, sewing on patches together, introducing them to pirate metal, sharing our current interests and then exploring new interests together.
to do a boy’s makeup and peck his nose afterwards.
tummies <333. guys who have soft tummies, guys who have flat tummies, big tummies, bloated tummies, built tummies, tummies with stretch marks, tummies with scars; all the different kinds of tummies.
a boy should come replace the stuffed pikachu that i’m holding.
matching bonnie and freddie hats and backpacks.
to dress up as a pirate and take a pretty boy on sea adventures.
instead of someone playing with my hair, they could put it up before i leave the house. put it in a pony/pig tails, braid it, half up half down, etc.
if a boy would give me a picture of them or their favourite mini trinket so that i could put it in my coffin shaped locket.
making dinner so that you know that your lover is eating well. even if they don’t eat a lot, it would be calming to know that at least they ate something that is good for their body. telling them that youre proud of how much they ate and that you’ll finish the rest off after you cuddle them to sleep.
one day, i will have to beg my own mother, who carried me nine months and raised me dozens more, to say my name and not the one on my birth certificate, the chosen name i boast with pride but she hides and pretends she doesn’t hear my sisters use- i will have to beg my own mother to say her only son’s name and not because she doesn’t know it but because she will not use it and one day i will have the money to move away from this city she resides in and she will choose the fork of the road that i follow if, no, when, she refuses to say my name.
one day, i will leave the roads i know in the neighborhood i was raised in, a part of a city i was born in that never knew me, no more than my own mother did. i will finally grow my garden in the yard of a home i have made with those i love, who love me and use my name with the same pride i use it with, and i will finally be able to breath. perhaps ill build the home with the man i recently reconnected with after nearly five years, or perhaps it will be with the couple wanting me to made that duo a triad or perhaps i have not yet who that home will be made with, but i know that home will stand on a foundation of chosen names shouted out with pride.
